Whisky Goodbye
by Fayth3
Summary: A respose to the Dead Letters challenge at Broken World awards. A letter uncovered after a death.


Response to the Broken world awards challenge:

Dead Letters Home  
_Take a character, kill him/her. Let him/her write one last letter. it can be to the world. it can be to a particular person. it can be to no one. She/he's died, and this is all that remains._

Go vote for your fave Dark Angel fiction at the broken world awards- http / w ww.a wards.the broken world. org/ nomfanfic. php  
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Whisky Goodbye**

If you are brave enough to venture deep in the heart of ravaged Seattle, you will eventually come across an apartment block that was abandoned after the great transgenic uprising of 2012. The block itself is unspectacular and its crumbled walls and exposed beams do more to deter any would-be squatters than the barbed wire that fences it. No one— no matter how desperate for shelter— would trust the place not to fall down around their ears.

Of course, with the transgenics almost accepted as part of society now, there is little cause for anyone to forage within the walls and so they stand, alone and abandoned.

But for a moment, open the doors that used to hold ornate stained glass and a welcome placard.

Mind the shrapnel as you walk into the lobby which used to boast a magnificent entrance, once guarded by men in red coats with slicked back hair, and head to the elevators, broken beyond use and buckled by gunfire and gas bombs.

If you dare, take the elevator to the top floor.

Along the hallway with half the roof missing, past the mouldy walls and ruins, lays a door, almost untouched by the destruction that surrounds it.

There is a faint smell of dust and decay but nothing that signifies. Behind this door is one of the most elaborate security systems ever devised, but you can imagine that one of the bombs that echoed in the foyer disabled the mechanics and pass inside.

This seems to be the one room in the whole place that remains intact. It seems that even the dust dare not settle on the mantelpiece, perhaps afraid of the one who used to live here in regimented style.

The bed is made, the kitchen is clean and there is one lone glass drying on the side; a testament that the place was once occupied.

Surprisingly, the room on the top floor is almost Spartan-like, as if whoever lived here gave up all his worldly possessions for some greater cause. Gave up themselves.

Up here, the echoes of traffic cannot reach and silence surrounds you, making you feel so very alone; maybe what _they_ felt and why it feels so empty.

No so empty.

On the mantelpiece lie two items; a crisp white sheet of a paper, propped against a whisky bottle.

Take the letter; unseen, unknown and unread.

What lies within?

A love letter from a heart-broken man? An apology from a cheating spouse? Maybe a confession from a silent admirer?

Read it to me.

_For your eyes only,_

_I do not expect to outlive you, indeed I hope I don't. I have lived too long and seen so much, but nothing that touches me as you did._

_When I first saw you, you were so young and even then there was something about you that touched me as no one had in so long. I think it was your eyes that first held me. They were so full of curiosity of the world and wonder at the things you saw but couldn't explain. When you looked at me, you seemed to see someone who held all the answers and you looked at me with trust._

_Blind trust was a weakness. _

_I hated you in that moment and I treated you badly; worse than anyone else. I held you in contempt and let you do my bidding because I knew I could. I told myself that it was all for your benefit; someone had to tell you that the world was a bad place; someone had to show you that you could never expect a fair break; someone had to dim that brightness; someone had to…_

_I did it._

_I watched as I pushed you and pushed you away. You realised potential under my tutelage that you never even realised you had. _

_They say that adversity breeds character and yet I can't credit making you the woman you are today, you did all that on your own._

_Because you left._

_You had clung to me because I am all you knew; I was your rock, the one thing in your young life that granted you stability and, I knew, that you wanted to please me. You wanted to make me proud of you._

_You did. _

_Then you were gone and I cursed every day that I never told you how special you were. _

_I thought you were dead. I didn't see how you could go on without me, maybe I was too arrogant. You knew that you and I shared a special bond and I believed that if you could have made your way back to me then you would have. You were away so long and I missed you. I pretended that I had no heart and I threw myself into my work but you were never far from my thoughts._

_And I never stopped looking; never. _

_When I finally found you, I didn't treat you as I should have done and I regret that. I dived in and got us both hurt. I pursued you because you were with him and I was so jealous; jealous that he got your attention and you didn't seem to care whether I was alive._

_I hated working with him, even when I knew it was what you wanted. I wanted him dead and so many times I almost snapped and took his life with a bullet; so many times I had my finger on the trigger, one word was all it would have taken and he'd be out of your life because he was no good for you; he was holding you back, pinning you down to a life that you no longer wanted or needed. I wanted to be the one by your side, showing you the potential that you could have achieved. I wanted to be the one that you turned to and trusted with everything. But I knew that you would never have allowed that. _

_I knew that I had betrayed you too many times for you to ever forgive me. That was why I have done what I have done. This is my final confession and I pray that you will believe that everything I have done I have done for you._

_I called White and told him that you had his son and were willing to bargain for the life of your mate. I waited for him and I shot him._

_I started the war._

_God, I never saw how it would happen. I never realised that with White dead the familiars would be all over the transgenics. All I wanted was for you to be safe. It was all I ever wanted for you, for you all: safety, a place to call home._

_The transgenic uprising was my fault and every death is on my hands and in my head. I bleed with every cut, I ache with every tear._

_I bet you never thought I could feel so much._

_I do feel. I feel sorry. Sorry that they killed your dog-friend. Sorry that they took out the city and set the humans on you. Sorry; so very sorry._

_I tried to atone._

_I broke out the other four Manticore bases and allowed them to come to your aid; not Zack. It was me that broadcast every single detail of Manticore, including what they put the children through. I was the one that uncovered the names of those in the cult and hunted every single one of them down, stringing them up like the curs they were._

_I know that you didn't care where I had gone, after I left, if you ever even thought of me again. But I hope that you did, I hope that you think of me._

_But now my journey is over. I have done all I can for you and I can hear them coming. The cult found me and I have to go, they will find me and they will kill me._

_From tonight I will be out of your life forever. No monster to haunt you._

_But I wanted to tell you all. I wanted you to know that I am not as evil as you once accused me of. I wanted to tell you that—I'm sorry._

_I wish I had imparted more to you than fear and hate. I wish I could have left you with some good memories of me instead of stealing them all._

_I drink a last toast and make a last wish, for your forgiveness._

_Will I regret all that I have done? Yes._

_Would I change the result? No, because no parent should outlive his children._

_Hate me, fear me, but you'll always be my kids._

_I'm proud of you, Max, all of you._

_There is so much left to say but they are at the door and I have run out of time._

_ Colonel Donald Lydecker. _

The letter sits, unmarked and yet not unremarkable, on that mantelpiece, never to be delivered for the perusal and perhaps forgiveness of the intended recipient.

We'll leave it there; a testament to a last wish, last hope that will never be realised.

A dead letter from a dead man.


End file.
